Instead of ——that wore when in flesh, &c.
You that always in Lucifer's Kitchin reside,
'Mongst Sea-coal and Kettles, and grease newly Try'd,
That pamper'd each day with the Garbidge of Souls,
Broil Rashers of Fools for a Break-fast on Coals.
Words adapted only to Sancho's Clownship, course Breeding, and Kitchin Profession, and with no more intent of Impiety in them, than if one should put on a Devils Vizard to play with a Child, does he note again as horrible Prophaneness, and says he does me no wrong in't; now if he insists that Hell is too serious a thing to ridicule, why, perhaps, I think so too, in its Intense quality; but to act a Goblin, a Ghost, a Frog, or a Fury, and to sing to a Country Clown of such Bugbear matters, only to cause a little Diversion in a Noblemans House, has always been very customary, especially at Festivals, and far from being thought to ridicule the main matter. The Absolver, to turn back a little, affirms indeed, That Collier, p. 189. those that bring Devils upon the stage, can hardly believe them any where else; but I can give an instance, that our famous Ben Johnson, who I will believe had a Conscience as good as the Doctors, and who liv'd in as Pious an Age, in his Comedy call'd the Vid. Devil's an Ass, p. 9. Devil's an Ass, makes his first Scene a Solemn Hell, where Lucifer sits in State with all his Privy-Council about him: and when he makes an under Pug there beaten and fool'd by a Clod-pated Squire and his wanton Wife, the Audience took the Representation morally, and never keck'd at the matter. Nay, Milton, tho' upon his secred Subject, comes very near the same thing too; but we must not laugh at silly Sancho, nor put on a Devils face to fright him, but we must be disciplin'd; nay, more, Presented for it. Here, tho' I digress a little, I cannot forbear telling some, that were too busie in doing that Office, that 'tis more easie to accuse our Writings for Blasphemous, than to prove them to be so. To detect us indeed fairly, and prove it upon us, would deserve severe Chastisement; but if it be mistake, and our reputations are injur'd by Rashness and Injustice, or Ignorance, reflection upon it is at least reasonable, and just reproof I think not improper. But to go on; my next fault is the Ass that's brought upon the Stage in the Epilogue, with two lines alluding to Balaam's.
And as 'tis said a Parlous Ass once spoke,
When Crab-tree Cudgel did his rage provoke, &c.
Here he says, Collier, p. 199. I brought the Ass in only to laugh at the Miracle: Not I, truly, I had no such intention upon my word; I brought the Ass in, and Dogget upon him, only to make the Audience laugh at his figure at the end of the Play, as well as they had at the beginning; but I believe if I had put an Absolver upon his back, giving him a Blessing, it would have been more divertive by half; but let him alone, the next horrible Crime is, I meddle with Churchmen, and there my Collier, p. 200. malice makes me, he says, lay about me like a Knight Errant; but I believe I shall prove, for all the modesty he pretends to, that his malice is more in reference to Poets, than ever mine was to Churchmen. Well, my Second Part begins, he says, with Devil's being brought upon the Stage, who cries, As he hopes to be sav'd; and Sancho warrants him a good Christian. Now this is a ridiculous mistake, for this Devil is only a Butler, and a Jest of his Giants, the witty Author of the History of Don Quixot, where one of the Duke's Servants acting a Devils Part to fright the Knight and Squire, blunders it out before he is aware, and Sancho hearing it, as foolishly replies. This would be humorously witty now with any one but our Critick; but he's resolv'd to see double, as he does presently again with my deep-mouth'd swearing which he says is frequent, tho he has quoted none on't, and therefore the Reader is not oblig'd to believe him. But then I have made the Curate Perez assist at the ridiculous Ceremony of Don Quixot; I have so—what then?—but I have made him have wit enough, however, to know Don Quixot for a Madman; but then Sancho, by way of Proverb, tells him, Ah—Consider dear Sir, no Man is born wise: to which briskly replies the Doctor, Collier, Ibid. What if he were born wise, he might be bred a Fool. Faith, no Doctor: and to be free with ye, (en Raillere) as you have been with me, must beg leave to tell ye, If you had been born wise enough to be a Reformer, your Breeding could never have made ye Fool enough to be an Absolver; I mean in a Case like you know what; but let us proceed. The next is a swinger, and his Lash cuts even to the blood: for here Sancho, full of innocent simplicity, says, A Bishop is no more than another Man, without Grace and good Breeding. To which he presently darts out, Ibid. I must needs say, if the Poet had any share of either of these Qualities, he would be less bold with his Superiors, and not give his Clowns the liberty to Droll thus heavily upon a solemn Character. Why, faith, now this is very hard, I have known a Country Wench name a Bishop in the Burning-too of a Hasty-Pudding, and never heard that any of the Reverend took it ill, because it was a Common Saying, and below their notice. But poor Sancbo, or rather indeed Sancho's Poet, my self, must be corrected for it, tho the Phrase be Moral, and no more than an honest truth: But come, since it must be so, let me ask the doctor why he does not shew me an example for this himself, and Practice better before he Accuses; for let the Reader look into his Desertion Discuss'd (for he shall find that I have trac'd him through all his Writings) and page the 3d you will find him, I think, somewhat more guilty of this fault than I have been, for there you'll
And here are a bundle of faults together—Jodolet, another Priest, is call'd Ibid. holy Cormorant, only because he eats a Turkey, and drinks a Bottle or two of Malaga for his Breakfast; and the Poet is jerk'd because a gormandizing Romish Priest is call'd a Pimp agen; and the Duke's Steward, Manuel, is no witty pleasant fellow, because he calls the Chaplain, whom I mentioned in the beginning of my Preface, and who is, no doubt, the sole occasion of this Gentleman's Pique to me—Mr Cuff-cushion; and because having an insight into his Character, he tells him, Ibid. a Whore is a Pulpit be loves; but my hope is, that my Reader will think him no fool for this, tho the Carper does, who then tells the Chaplain Saygrace, and he supposes prays to God to bless the entertainment of the Devil, tho there is not a word of a Grace spoke at all; and after, when he grows hot, positive, and impertinent, which the Duke his patron being at Table, only bears with, to divert himself, he insolently calls Don Quixot, Don Coxcomb, who justly enrag'd, returns him in this Language: Collier, p. 202. Oh thou vile black Fox, with a Firebrand in thy Tail, thou very priest, thou kindler of all Mischiefs in all Nations, de'e hear, Homily, did not the reverence I bear these Nobles—I would so thrum your Cassock, you Church Vermin—Here now, to shew his Justice he slily stops and gives a dash, so makes it Nonsense, but I shall make bold to piece it out again. Did not the reverence I bear these Nobles, tye up my hands from doing myself Justice, I would so thrum your Cassock you Church Vermin—Now, because my Reader shall find that I have naturally pursu'd the character of this Chaplain, as Don Quixot's Historian has presented him to me, you shall hear what account he gives of him. Here is, says he, Shelton's Translation of the History of D. Quix. Chap. 31. p. 152. a good Character of a poor Pedant; one of them that govern great men's Houses, one of those, that as they are not born Noble, so they know not how to instruct those that are; one of those, that would have great men's Liberality measur'd by the streightness of their own Minds; one of those, that teaching those they govern to be frugal, would make 'em miserable. Now this considerable person as you find him here, who was indeed for his senseless humour of designing to govern—us'd no otherwise than as the Buffoon of the Family—takes upon him to call Don Quixot (whom the Authour imbellishes, with all manner of learning and good sense, bating his whimsical Chimæra of Knight Errantry,) Goodman Dulpate and Don Coxcomb. Well, however the Switcher here has escap'd for his usage of a Gentleman in or near this manner, I believe my Judges will agree, that my Knight was so far from injuring the sawcy Trencherfly, by the reply he give him, that if he had not known and practic'd good breeding, better than the other, he would have broke his head into the bargain. As for his bidding him adieu in Language too prophane and scandalous for our Reformer to relate, is impossible, for he has prov'd often enough the contrary of that in his Book already. But for the Song in the Fourth Act, where the Country Fellow says, Folks never mind now what those black Cattle say: Ibid. He is only suppos'd for another Bumpkin, that amongst the rest of the Parishioners, had found out the Parsons blind side, and so behind his back took occasion to put a joke upon him, as well as the rest in that Satyr mention'd.
And now his third place is to prove my want of Modesty, and regard to the Audience—And here he's chewing his savoury word Smutt agen, and says Collier, p. 203. Sancho and Teresa talk it broad; but since his Modesty has not quoted it, I hope my Reader will believe so well of mine, to think I have not written it; I assure him I don't know of any. And I have prov'd our Reformer can mistake, as he does of Marcellas Epilogue, who Raves, he says, with Raptures of Indecency, when the poor Creature is so cold, after her hot fit, that she rather wants a dram of the Bottle—But now, Bounce, for a full charge of Small Shot; here he has gather'd up a heap of Epithets together, without any words between, or connexion to make 'em sense; and this he says I divert the Ladies with—Snotty nose, filthy vermin in the Beard, Nitty Jerkin, and Louse snapper, with the Letter in the Chamber-pot, and natural evacuation. Why truly this is pretty stuff indeed, as his Ingenuity has put it together—but I hope every one will own, that each of these singly, when they are tagg'd to their sensible phrases, may be proper enough in Farce or Low Comedy; but as he has modell'd 'em, 'tis true they are very frightful—And if I had nothing to sing or say to divert Ladies better than this, I should think my self so despicable, that I would e'en get into the next Plot, amongst his Brother Grumblers—then despairing, do some doughty thing to deserve hanging, and depend upon no other comfort but his Absolution.
I remember, being lately at St. James's, this very part of the Doctors Book was read or rather spelt out to me, with tickling satisfaction, by one whose Wit and good Manners are known to be just of the same weight, who, since he can be merry so easily, he shall laugh at some of the Reformers Hotch-potch too, as I have mingled it for him. Collier's Epithetes.
Collier, p. 257. Jewish Tetragramaton, Stigian Frogs, reeking Pandæmoniums, Debauch'd Protagonists, Nauseous Ribaldry, Ranting Smutt, Abominable Stench, Venus and St George Juliana, the Witch and the Parson of Wrotham, with the admirable Popish story of the Woman that went to the Play-House and brought home the Devil with her—And the Devil's in't indeed, if this charming Rhetorick of his, (since he calls mine so) especially joyn'd with that fine story from Tertullian, don't divert the Ladies as well as t'other; for 'tis very like a Catholick miracle you must know, and the top wit of it is, that when the Parson is Conjuring, he asks the Devil how he durst attack a Christian? who, like an admirable Joker as he was, answers, I have done nothing but what I can justify, for I seiz'd her upon my own ground. Now let the Devil be as witty as he can, I am sure the story, maugre Tertullian's Authority, or the Doctor's either, is confounded silly, and downright nonsense, what credit soever it has with him for its likeness to Jesuiticism. And now I think I have prov'd too, that a Clergy man can speak nonsense, pass it for humour too, and gratify his ease and his malice at once, without a Poet's putting his into his Mouth. And since we have been speaking of quibbling, I shall digress a little to entertain the Reader on that subject. Our Critick rallies Mr Dryden's Sancho in Love Triumphant, for saying, dont provoke me, I'm mischievously bent, to which Carlos a man of sense replys, Collier, p. 170. nay you are bent enough in conscience, but I have a bent Fist for Boxing; Here says he (smartly) you have a brace of quibbles started in a line and a half—Very true, you have so—But suppose quibbling or punning—but I think this is call'd punning—Is this Gentlemans humour—if so, being a Soldier, I don't see it calls his sense in question at all—but now pray let's see, how our Critick manages a quibble, with a blunder tack'd to the Tail on't, in the page before, there, in the aforesaid Play, Celidea in a passion cries,